


six feet under

by Flowerparrish



Series: winterhawk bingo [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Bingo Fill, M/M, Not Beta Read, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Vampire Clint Barton, hunter Bucky Barnes, this is actually pretty fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 00:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/pseuds/Flowerparrish
Summary: He grins, and in the dim light of the bedside lamp, Bucky can see fangs in his mouth. “Come and find us, then.”He’s gone a second later, and Bucky slumps against the wall in relief.“We’re not actually hunting you though,” Bucky says eventually, when the words come. There’s no response; the vampire must be too far away to have heard.Fuck.





	six feet under

**Author's Note:**

> bingo square: supernatural au

Sometimes Bucky wonders what he would have done with his life, if he hadn’t become a hunter. Maybe he would have gone to college on a baseball scholarship? Maybe he would have taken over his family’s small diner?

But it doesn’t matter. He’s a hunter, and he lives on hustling pool and odd jobs and credit cards under false names, and he saves a small piece of the world every few weeks, and it’s not the best life, but it’s _his _life.

Besides, he’s got his best friend, his _brother, _with him—what more could be need?

So sometimes he wonders what he would have done with his life. But that’s all it is, absentminded wondering, because Bucky wouldn’t trade the difference he’s making, the lives he’s saving, for anything.

\--

They come to a small town in northern New York, some snow still piled up alongside the roads, the heat in their beat-up Jeep barely functional. “Where’re we stayin’?” Bucky asks, pretending his teeth aren’t trying to chatter by keeping his jaw clenched.

Steve sees right through him, as always. He reaches into the backseat with one of his long arms—Bucky’s still not used to the beefy body he’s achieved through necessity, such a contrast to the squirt he used to be—and tugs an extra blanket into the front seat, tossing it over Bucky. “Hm, dealer’s choice,” he says. “Squatting or the cheapest motel we can find?”

“Motel,” Bucky says instantly. “I don’t care how cheap it is, so long as it has heat.”

Steve grins, like he knew that’s what Bucky was going to say, and says, “Okay. That first, then.”

What they know about the “case,” if it can even be called that, is that it seems to be vampires. Mostly, though, what tipped them off is the sudden onset of anemia in cattle, surprising enough to have been reported on in a local paper. One of Steve’s Google alerts picked up on it, and they’d been in New York with Bucky’s family for the holiday, so they were nearby, and they decided to check it out, feel out the situation, give themselves as much of a vacation as they were ever allowed.

It’s not a problem, really, if vampires are feeding on cattle. It’s when they start feeding off of non-consenting humans, even killing them, that it becomes a problem.

That doesn’t seem to apply here.

It seems safe enough that when they find the motel, Steve goes out to find take-away for them for the night, and Bucky takes a long, steaming-hot shower.

When he gets out of the shower and moves back into the main room, towel around his waist, there’s a man there.

“What the fuck,” Bucky says out loud, and internally he screams at himself in frustration for not leaving a gun on the bathroom counter, where he would be able to grab it.

“Why are you here?” the man asks.

“Who are you?”

“All that matters is that _I _know who you are. Your reputation precedes you. So why. Are. You. Here.” The last word doesn’t even come out as a question, but it’s clear that Bucky’s expected to answer.

He’s going to die basically naked in a towel and Steve’s going to have to find his body. _Shit. _“Investigating anemic cows,” he blurts out. “Fuck, I don’t—”

“Huh,” the guys says. “That’s all it took. Well.” He grins, and in the dim light of the bedside lamp, Bucky can see fangs in his mouth. “Come and find us, then.”

He’s gone a second later, and Bucky slumps against the wall in relief.

“We’re not actually hunting you though,” Bucky says eventually, when the words come. There’s no response; the vampire must be too far away to have heard.

_Fuck. _

\--

The second Steve stumbles through the door, bags of take out in his arms and keycard in his mouth—Bucky doesn’t even _want _to know—he knows something is off.

It may be how Bucky, who has been cold all day, is sitting on the bed, still just in his towel, gun in his hands.

“Uh?”

“Vamp cornered me when I got out of the shower,” Bucky says.

“What the hell?” Steve drops the food on the other bed and rushes Bucky, arms going to hold his shoulders as he looks him over. “What did you do?”

“Nothin’,” Bucky tells him. “Literally. Didn’t have a gun. Didn’t have anythin’.”

“But you’re okay.” Steve says it firmly, but Bucky can read the question underneath the statement.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Vamp just… he dared us to find them. And then he left.”

“Huh,” Steve says, slumping down on the other bed amidst the food. “So… they’re probably not a problem, then?”

“They didn’t hurt me,” Bucky agrees. “And they could have? Apparently ‘our reputation precedes us.’ Whatever that means.”

Steve snorts. “It means we’re badasses, Buck. But it also means we gotta be careful. They might start coming after us too.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, stomach churning in mild panic at the thought. “Yeah.”

\--

They decide to head out the next day.

So, of course, they end up more or less snowed in. They could _try _to drive through it. But they’d probably end up in a snowdrift, and their heat still isn’t great, so staying put is their best option.

Bucky’s twitching at every noise.

Steve is not taking him nearly seriously enough, he thinks. “Well, they didn’t kill you when they had the chance,” Steve points out. He looks ridiculous, bundled up in all his winter gear because they’re going to brave the storm to make their way to the diner across the street for sustenance.

Bucky, because he either hates himself or cares too much about appearances, just puts on an extra thermal under his long sleeve shirt and leather jacket. It’ll have to do.

“You’re gonna freeze,” Steve warns him.

Bucky shrugs. “Gotta die someday.”

When they get to the diner, Bucky’s not expecting the vamp from last night to _be there. _

He’s sitting in a booth by himself, drinking what looks like… coffee? What the hell? Do vampires eat? Before today, Bucky would have said no, but…? The vamp takes a sip, and Bucky’s world tilts a little on its axis.

“Be right back,” he tells Steve, who is settling into a seat at the counter, and he strides off without another word.

Bucky drops into the seat across from the vamp, getting a good look at him now that he’s not panicking and pretty sure he’s about to die.

The vampire is an attractive guy—no real surprise there, vamps tend to be attractive. Whether attractiveness is a prerequisite for being turned or they’re just all supernaturally pretty, well. Bucky doesn’t really care.

He’s blond, with piercing blue eyes, and of course pale skin. But Bucky’s surprised by the scattered freckles across his cheeks and nose—probably leftovers from his time as a human.

“So,” Bucky says. “You know who I am, but you didn’t introduce yourself.”

The guy looks up with a sigh. “I’m here to apologize, or whatever,” he says, sounding put out about it.

“You… what?” Bucky asks, thrown off.

“N—I mean, my sire, she said cornering you was out of line, especially when you hadn’t tried to hurt us. Said I had to apologize.” He’s still looking at a point vaguely over Bucky’s shoulder. “So, uh, sorry for scaring you, I guess.”

Bucky snorts. “That was one of the least sincere apologies I’ve ever heard.” The guy opens his mouth, eyes flashing, and Bucky says, “Nah, it’s fine, I’ll take it. Apology accepted. You gonna introduce yourself, or?”

The vampire rolls his eyes. “I’m Clint. No, you don’t get more than that. Which one are you? I just know there’s two of you.”

“Bucky,” Bucky tells him. It’s not like his name matters to this vampire one way or the other, like it factors into whether he decides to kill Bucky or not.

The vampire’s eyes meet Bucky’s for the first time. “That’s an odd name.”

Bucky shrugs. “Nickname. Not a lie, so it doesn’t matter when dealing with fae, because it is what people call me. But it’s also not my given name, so it makes me harder to track down.”

“Smart,” the vamp agrees. “Okay, well, pleasure to meet you, Bucky. Hope to never see you again.” He drops a crumpled twenty dollar bill down on the table and rises to his feet, just this side of supernaturally fast. “Bye.”

Bucky blinks, and the guy—vampire—Clint—is gone.

He doesn’t know what to make of their odd conversation.

He heads back over to Steve, settling in beside him. Steve nudges a second mug of coffee toward him and says, “I ordered you the breakfast special.”

“You aren’t concerned about what just happened?”

Steve shrugs. “He was hardly going to kill you in a public place. They must have a life here, if they’re trying not to fuck it up. It was fine, right?”

Bucky knows Steve is the tactical mind, between the two of them. But sometimes, he wishes that didn’t mean he was the cautious one, the paranoid one. “Yeah,” he admits reluctantly. “For now, at least.”

\--

The snow clears up, but Steve, inexplicably, doesn’t want to leave.

“Don’t you want a vacation?” he asks Bucky.

_No, _Bucky thinks. _Not really. _He lives for his job, and he’s fine that way.

Bucky finds himself outside of an occult shop in town, and he can twig the second he enters that it’s _real _occult, not the fake shit that’s so common these days.

He turns on his heel and leaves. He does his best not to fuck with witches, in the hopes that they won’t fuck with him first.

\--

Steve likes to shop around for different food venues throughout the relatively small town they’ve stumbled upon.

Bucky has found a perfectly good diner to eat at, and he doesn’t see the point in branching out.

“We _can _split up,” Steve points out.

“It’s not safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Steve argues. “We’ve been here for three days. Nothing bad has happened.”

“Okay,” Bucky finally relents. “Only if you’ll take a gun with you.”

They both have concealed carry permits, in their real names to boot, so Steve has no reason to say no.

He _does _roll his eyes, but he says, “Sure, Buck,” so that’s okay.

When Bucky gets to the diner, he finds an empty booth, because he has a book and he doesn’t feel like moving for a few hours if he has the option of a warm place to be and a steady stream of coffee.

He’s not expecting when, just after he’s ordered—an omelet, healthy, because he’s gotta keep in shape somehow around Steve ordering him _bacon—_a familiar figure slumps down into the seat across from him.

“Uh,” Bucky says. “Hi?”

“Hey,” Clint says, with a long-suffering sigh. “You went in to Tony’s shop?”

“What?”

Clint rolls his eyes. “The occult shop?”

“Oh,” Bucky says. “Yeah. And then I left. I don’t fuck with that shit.”

A small grin quirks at the corner of Clint’s lips, but it’s wiped away an instant later. “You’ll hunt vampires, but you’re afraid of witches?”

Bucky isn’t the least bit ashamed. “You can’t see a curse coming,” he says. “And they can do some fucked up shit.”

“You can barely see me coming,” Clint points out.

“Yeah. _Barely.” _

Clint rolls his eyes. “You’re weird.”

Bucky shrugs, unbothered.

Clint orders a coffee when the waitress comes back with Bucky’s food.

They sit in silence for the next few hours, sipping their coffees and subsequent refills, Bucky reading, Clint looking out the window and watching people go by.

\--

Breakfast becomes a pattern. They even start talking, eventually.

“Were you following me?”

“Kinda,” Clint admits easily. “Didn’t get why you stuck around if you weren’t going to cause trouble.”

“Steve,” Bucky tells him. “He wants a _vacation.” _

“Here?” Clint asks, incredulous.

“That’s what I said.”

\--

Clint starts showing him around the town when the snow piles start to thaw. He introduces Bucky to Tony, the witch who runs the occult shop. He shows him a movie theater and an ice-skating rink and a few more diners, and Bucky doesn’t wonder why he was unwilling to go to other diners for Steve but he’s fine doing so with Clint.

It’s cozy. It’s relaxing. He forgets, frequently, that Clint is a vampire and he’s a hunter and they’re not supposed to be—whatever they are. Friends, he thinks.

And then, one day when they’ve been ice skating, and Clint’s fallen down at least fifty times to Bucky’s ten or so—“You’re a vampire, how can you be so clumsy?” “Some things are too ingrained to be cured by something so minor as a case of vampirism.”—Clint grabs Bucky’s hand.

Clint’s hand is cold, and Bucky shivers slightly, but it’s also… nice.

“Was this a date?” Bucky blurts out.

Clint looks at him oddly. “Uh, yeah. They’ve all been dates.”

“Oh.” Bucky considers that. “Well, okay then. You should kiss me.”

Clint does.

Bucky can feel Clint’s fangs against his lip, and it shouldn’t be hot.

It is.

\--

Steve laughs for half an hour when Bucky tells him that he’s got a vampire boyfriend. Or maybe it’s at the stealth dating that Bucky honestly didn’t pick up on. Either way, he smacks Steve with a pillow and goes to shower.

\--

Months pass, and they settle in to town. Bucky and Steve rent a dinky apartment. They still go out on hunts all the East Coast and some of the more eastward Midwest, but they have a home base to return to now.

It feels good, to belong somewhere for once.

Tony even hires Steve to work part-time at his occult shop. Bucky thinks there might be something going on there, but he doesn’t want to question it.

Bucky meets the rest of Clint’s small coven—a young-looking girl named Kate and a stunningly gorgeous woman named Natasha, who Clint introduces as his sire.

“What’s the story there?” he asks Clint later, when they’re tucked upstairs on the bed in Clint’s room in the small house that the coven shares. He knows that the rest of them can hear if they want to; he also knows, from conversations with Clint, that it’s bad manners to eavesdrop.

Clint goes still underneath him. He breathes, most of the time—says it’s habit and makes his brain calm to do it—but he’s not breathing now.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Bucky says. “I just… you could.”

“I’ll tell you,” Clint says. “But. Only if you tell me why you became a hunter?”

“Okay,” Bucky whispers, because that’s fair. He doesn’t wan to talk about that day—but he wants to know, and he doesn’t mind sharing so long as he’s sharing with _Clint. _

“Me first, then,” Clint says. “My brother joined a coven when we were in our twenties. We weren’t… good, not really. We stole but we didn’t kill. But he joined this coven, and they killed people, not even just to feed, but for fun, and I tried to stop him, and they drained me and left me for dead.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers. He pulls the unyielding lines of Clint’s body closer to his.

“Natasha found me,” Clint says. “She offered me a way to live. Said she knew a better way to be a vampire.”

“You said yes.”

“I was hazy as fuck,” Clint admits. “But yeah, I said yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

Clint’s still under him still. “No,” he says at last. “Plus, now I’m here with you.”

Bucky kisses his cheek. “I’m glad for that.”

Clint slowly starts breathing again, even breaths that don’t betray any emotions. “So, uh, your turn I guess.”

Bucky sighs. “Fuck, okay. So, Steve’s mom got murdered. It was a whole demon thing. Not great. Some hunters came in and did what they could to clean up the mess, and just… it was all we could see ourselves doing, after that. Helping save the ones we could, and helping people move on with their lives after.”

“Sounds like you didn’t get to move on, though,” Clint points out.

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t regret it.”

Clint kisses his cheek. “You shouldn’t. You have a good reputation. It’s why I didn’t kill you when you showed up.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bucky says. “Not just because I kinda like being alive, but because then Steve definitely would have killed you, and that would have sucked.”

Clint snorts. “Good all around, then.”

They’re quiet for a bit.

“Okay, this maudlin mood’s not working for me,” Clint says eventually. He lifts up so he can meet Bucky’s eyes, and he smirks. “Sex?”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky agrees.

\--

They don’t live happily ever after. They can’t. Someday, they’ll have to break up, or Bucky will have to deal with aging alongside an immortal partner, or he’ll have to pick some kind of immortal creature he wants to become.

But that day isn’t today. Today, they’re happy.

It’s more than Bucky ever thought he’d get to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure I'll never toy with this again, but for now, this is where the muse left me! Leave a comment to let me know what you thought! 
> 
> And thanks again to the mods of the winterhawk bingo for running and awesome event and giving me an awesome card!


End file.
